Friday, 4 July 2008

An Embarrassing Incident



Launch date for our trip to the moon is set for Monday.

I have decided on the crew to accompany me to the moon.

The Old Monkey - of course, I could not go anywhere without my faithful Aide-de-camp.

Cowgill has to come - he is the only one who knows how to coax the best out of his rocket.

A.B.Fox, because I have no doubt that we will need his intellect and cunning.

We will also need brawn, although Cloutman and Gubbins are normally inseparable there is not room for both. So they drew lots - Cloutman won and so will act as our security.

The Old Monkey suggested it would be diplomatic to include a dwarf in our party, given that the dwarfs run the mining operations on the moon and make up the bulk of the populace of the Homeward Moonbase. I therefore selected an expert in excavations - Diggory Stigneev.

Cowgill insisted that we would need an astronomical expert, to aid with navigation. He suggested a world-renowned star-gazer that he had read about - Professor Patrick Hismouth.
A strange cove - but apparently well thought of in astronomical circles.

Finally, because of his constant nagging, I agreed that Goodman could come along as the ship's cat and mascot.

Today we all had to test our spacesuits under weightless conditions. These suits have been tailor made for us by Cowgill and he wanted to check that there were no design flaws or alterations needed before they face the final test - in space itself.



A problem arose with my suit, however. I had only had the suit on a few minutes before I had a strange fit of the giggles. I just could not stop laughing. Everyone looked at me as if I was quite mad and unfortunately at this very moment our preparations were being filmed by the Badgertown Broadcasting Corporation. It was all most undignified.
I, of course, immediately put an embargo on transmission of the material but somehow it got into the hands of Badfort TV. They have been running it constantly and making jokes about the moon being the right place for a lunatic despot.



Later that evening, Cowgill took me aside for a quiet word. It appears that the oxygen tank on my spacesuit had been substituted for a canister of laughing gas!

Clearly, there is a traitor and saboteur in our midst.

I shall keep this information between Cowgill and myself for the time being - I do not want to spread alarm amongst the crew. I shall be keeping a close eye on everyone from now on, however.

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